Claude's three Wind Blades were a sound strategy—on paper. Each attack was precisely placed, cutting off escape routes and forcing Alex into a corner.
Yet, to Alex, they may as well have been slow-moving leaves.
With a single fluid motion, he twisted his body—ducking under the first, sidestepping the second, and effortlessly weaving past the third. The entire sequence took less than a second.
Claude's eyes widened. His confidence wavered for the first time. He had expected resistance, not complete dismissal.
'No way… He dodged all of them like they were nothing?' Claude clenched his jaw, frustration creeping in. Fine. If low-tier spells weren't enough, he would step up his game.
A stronger surge of mana pulsed around him as he began chanting—the incantation for a Tier-3 spell. The air vibrated, swirling aggressively, forming a visible green aura around his body.
Alex blinked. Then frowned.
'Why… is he just standing there, chanting out in the open?'
From his perspective, Claude was practically offering himself up as a free target.
'By now, Priscilla would have hollowed me out with her Light Arrows. Hell, even I could bombard him with Dark Bullets…'
Sensing his confusion, Aurora hovered beside him, "Unlike Priscilla, who can cast spells in an instant without chanting, most mages need time to gather their mana. The stronger the spell, the longer the chant."
Alex's frown deepened. "So, he's just a sitting duck?"
Aurora sighed. "Basically."
That was all Alex needed to hear. In an instant, he sprinted forward, closing the distance.
Claude's chanting continued, his green aura intensifying. He still hadn't moved—his entire focus locked onto finishing his spell.
His eyes finally snapped open—startled by how quickly Alex had reached him.
'Already?!'
Too late.
Just as Alex prepared to strike, Claude roared out the final words of his chant.
"
The moment the incantation completed, air compressed around them before exploding outward, materializing into a storm-like vortex—aimed directly at Alex. He had no time to dodge.
The Air Barrage struck like a cannon blast. A massive bullet of compressed wind slammed into Alex, forcing him back as sheer force threatened to throw him off balance. But he didn't panic.
With a sharp flick of his wrist, his sword sliced through the attack, dispersing part of the energy. The rest pushed him back, his feet skidding across the ground, leaving a trail of dust.
Claude's eyes widened in disbelief. "He… cut through it?"
He hadn't expected that.
Determined not to let Alex regain control, Claude reacted instantly—launching a
Alex was already moving. At the very last moment, his body twisted sharply—the Wind Blade missing him by mere inches. The displaced air ruffled his uniform, but not a single scratch marked his skin.
Claude's breath hitched. 'Impossible.'
Wind Blade was one of the fastest offensive spells. Dodging it at such close range shouldn't have been possible.
Unless…
Unless Alex was moving faster than he could cast it. Before he could even process what that meant—
Alex struck.
A solid impact slammed into Claude's gut. The protective formation absorbed most of the damage, but it did nothing to cushion the sheer force behind the blow. Pain still echoed through his body.
His vision blurred. His breath hitched.
Then—
He was airborne.
The next thing he knew, he was crashing into the ground, his back hitting the dirt with a dull thud. A shadow loomed over him.
By the time Claude's dazed eyes refocused, Alex's sword was already at his throat.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then—
A sharp whistle pierced the air.
The instructor, finally snapping out of his daze, blew his whistle a second time, signaling the official end of the match.
There was a brief pause before he cleared his throat and announced in a stiff voice, "Winner—Alex of the Knight Faculty."
A stunned silence hung over the training grounds.
Everyone stared at Alex, their minds struggling to process what had just happened.
Claude lost?
A noble. A top-tier magic student. Defeated—by someone they had barely paid attention to before.
Whispers spread like wildfire. Even Alex's own classmates seemed taken aback. He had vanished for a month, slipping from their thoughts entirely—only to return, stronger than ever.
Then, the silence shattered.
Cheers erupted, loud and unrestrained. The Knight Faculty students roared the loudest. For too long, they had been overshadowed by the magic students—always on the losing side.
But today—one of their own had won. And not just against anyone.
Against a noble. Against a magic user. Excitement surged through them, electric and uncontainable.
Amid the celebration, Trey stood frozen, eyes locked onto Alex.
He had fought him months ago. Back then, Alex had been strong. But this? This was on an entirely different level.
His heart pounded—not with jealousy, but with something far more powerful.
'I have to fight him again.'
◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆
As students swarmed Alex, eager to speak with him, the instructors swiftly stepped in, shooing them away to resume training.
"Enough!" Max barked. "Back to training! This isn't a festival—get moving!"
Grumbling, the students slowly dispersed, though many continued sneaking glances at Alex. Some whispered, some pointed. His name was already spreading like wildfire.
Taking the opportunity, Alex slipped out of the training grounds with a convenient excuse—he had assignments to catch up on.
Strolling through the academy halls, he muttered, "What a letdown. He was boring. If I could use magic, that match would've been over in seconds."
Aurora scoffed. "He was a weakling. You're wasting too much thought on such a trivial win."
Alex chuckled. "Fair. Never mind."
After a brief pause, he asked, "By the way, why did it take him so long to cast? Do spells really need chanting? I've never seen anyone do it, and I sure don't."
Aurora responded smoothly, "Of course. Most people chant to help them visualize and construct the magic circle. It also assists in gathering mana. But once you master a spell, you can cast it without chanting."
Her tone took on a hint of sarcasm and jealousy. "Not that you'd know the struggle. With your ridiculous talent, you can just cast spells on the first try like it's nothing. Must be nice."
Alex smirked. "So I don't have to shout spell names before using them? Good. I always thought that was idiotic—like announcing my next move to the enemy."
Aurora nodded. "Exactly. That's why silent casting is a huge advantage. If your opponent can't hear the chant, they won't know what spell is coming, leaving them with almost no time to react."
She paused, then added, "But don't get cocky. Silent casting is difficult. Most mages take years to even attempt it, let alone master it."
Alex let out a relieved sigh. 'Good. If I had to chant my spells out loud like some over-the-top Chunibyo, I'd probably die of embarrassment.'
◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆
The next day, Alex made his way to the auditorium for the gathering. As expected, the entire academy was in attendance, and with so many students packed into one place, the air felt stifling. Countless overlapping voices merged into a chaotic hum, a constant buzz of conversation.
Just like before, the seating was divided—magic students on one side, knights on the other. The unspoken rivalry between the two groups lingered in the air, a tension that never fully faded.
Finding a seat, Alex leaned back, scanning the room with a bored expression.
The noise continued—until the doors at the front of the hall swung open. A single figure stepped onto the stage, and almost instantly, silence fell.
Principal Elena had arrived.
She carried herself with effortless grace, her piercing gaze sweeping across the students as if she could see straight through them. Her presence alone commanded respect, and not a single soul dared to speak out of turn.